


Shift

by hawksonfire



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Archery, BAMF Clint Barton, Boys Kissing, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Clint Barton's Shitty Childhood, Deaf Clint Barton, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Marvel Trumps Hate 2019, Multi, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Clint Barton, Past Child Abuse, Polyamory, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Sexual Tension, Werewolf Courting Rituals, not a/b/o
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 10:34:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22540471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawksonfire/pseuds/hawksonfire
Summary: Clint has a plan. It's simple really. Get as far away as is possible from the Circus and his old pack as quickly as he can, and don't look back.And then he stumbles upon Steve and Bucky and the RedStar pack. Slowly but surely, he finds himself making a home there.The only question now is, can he keep it safe?
Relationships: Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 131
Kudos: 391
Collections: Marvel Trumps Hate 2019





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mado](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mado/gifts).

> Woo! It's here, finally! I hope you enjoy this fic because I sure as hell enjoyed writing it! Updates should be coming every few days until it's complete. The rating (currently Mature) could possibly change, and is rated Mature for the violence that appears.
> 
> For Mado. Thank you for making this possible! I hoped it's everything you want it to be!

Clint wakes up sore. That in itself is nothing new, he wakes up sore most days. What is new, though, is the feelings of actual bedsheets against his skin. Usually, he wakes up being poked by straw because he fell asleep in the animal tent again. His ears don’t have the gummy feeling they get from sleeping with his aids in when he does that - his aids. 

He jolts upright, eyes flying open and fists clenched in the sheets pooled at his waist. There are people in front of him, reaching out to him and saying something that he can’t understand. He shakes his head, flinching away from their hands and they stop moving. The one on the left, a massive blond bearded dude turns and says something to the other guy in the room, an equally as massive brown-haired dude. 

The one with brown hair turns and says something to a nurse - or what looks like a nurse, anyway - and the nurse leaves. The two men turn and stare at Clint and he glares at them, forcing himself to meet their gaze even though all he really wants to do is get the hell out of there. The three of them stare at each other for what feels like forever, time dragging by until the nurse from earlier comes back, carrying something purple in his hands. 

Clint snatches his hearing aids and puts them in carefully, wincing as he notices the small yellow light on one of them that means the battery is low. Maybe he can steal some batteries or something before he leaves this place. When he turns them on the world comes rushing back in, and he reflexively closes his eyes only to jerk them open a split second later. He can’t go letting his guard down around these people. He doesn’t know them.

“Can you hear us now?” The brown-haired guy asks, closing the door once the nurse leaves. The click of the door closing is like a gunshot in Clint’s ears and the tension in his body immediately ratchets up a notch. 

“I don’t think he wants to talk to us, Buck,” the blond guy says.

The other guy - Buck, apparently - snorts and crosses his arms. “Well, he’s gonna hafta talk to us if he wants to get back to where he’s been.”

“No!” The shout tears its way out of Clint’s throat before he can stop it, and the resulting silence is deafening. 

“What do you mean, no?” Blondie questions, moving closer. Clint shoves himself up the bed until his back hits the wall, heart beating frantically. Blondie stops moving, an unreadable expression on his face and Buck - such a stupid name - pulls him back gently with a hand on his shoulder. 

“I mean I’m not going back there and you can’t make me,” Clint snarls. “I’ll die before I let you send me back there.”

“We ain’t gonna make you do anything you don’t wanna do,” Buck says slowly. Clint snorts, he can’t help it. 

“Yeah,” he mutters, hunching his shoulders, “That’s what all you alpha types say.”

“How’d you know we were alphas?” Blondie demands, too loudly. Once again, Clint flinches, and once again, Blondie’s pulled away by Buck. The two have a murmured conversation that’s too low for Clint to catch - he does his best to read their lips but their heads are turned away from him and he’s too stressed out to focus properly. 

“Lucky guess,” Clint says bitterly once they turn back to him. “So you gonna let me go?”

“No one’s keeping you here, sweetheart,” Buck drawls, raising an eyebrow. 

“Great.” Clint goes to pull back the sheets, then realizes that he’s naked underneath. He mercilessly shoves down the impending panic that realization brings about, and looks up at the two men, raising an eyebrow of his own. “Can I have my clothes back?”

“We got rid of them,” Blondie says bluntly. “They were old and ragged and they smelled like shit.”

“You had no right to do that,” Clint says, somehow managing to keep his voice relatively steady. Those clothes had every penny he managed to steal before he left in them - without them, he’s fucked. 

“We got rid of the clothes but kept the other stuff that was found with you,” Buck says, and he tosses a plastic bag towards Clint. 

He barely manages to get a hand up and catch it before it hits him in the face, and he only barely manages to suppress a flinch as he does. Inside the bag, he sees money, a keychain, a folded up photo, a ring on a leather cord and an arrowhead made out of stone, and he sighs. It’s all there - well, at least it looks like it’s all there. He’ll have to count the money later. “Can I have clothes now?”

“Are you planning to just get up and walk out of here once you get them?” Blondie asks, smirking a little.

Clint sighs, slumping back onto the bed. He should have known this was too good to be true. There’s no way these two alphas are gonna let him just leave - he came onto their territory, he’s been nothing but rude to them... He’ll be lucky if he can walk at all once they’re done with him. “Fine. Just... if you’re gonna beat me up, don’t take too long?”

They’re silent for a moment, and then a snarl rips through the room, sending Clint scrambling back on the bed, pressing himself into the corner and making himself as small as possible. He covers his head with his hands and curls into a ball, protecting his ribs. There’s another murmured conversation that Clint can barely hear over the pounding of his heart, and then the door opens and closes, leaving silence behind.

He peeks out over his arms, meeting the gaze of the wolf that the other one called Buck. He’s leaning against the door, watching Clint carefully. “Gonna take turns, then?” Clint asks tiredly.

“No one’s beating you up, sweetheart,” Buck says softly. “Steve just got a little worked up, that’s all.”

“Over what?” Clint asks cautiously. So that’s the other alphas name. Suits him.

“The thought of someone treating you so badly that you think two alphas would beat an already injured omega,” Buck answers.

Clint winces. Right. He’s an omega now. That’s fine, he can survive on his own just fine. “Where am I, anyway?” The need for information outweighs his need to not let this alpha have any more leverage over him. 

“Red Star territory,” Buck answers.

Clint’s eyes widen before he can stop himself and he curses internally. That’s nowhere near as far from - well, it’s nowhere near as far as he wanted to get. “I need to go,” he gasps, throwing the sheet aside and climbing out of bed. As soon as his feet hit the floor, his knees buckle and Buck’s across the room in half a second, reaching out to steady him. Clint snarls at him, pulling himself up on the side of the bed, and Buck stops within arms reach, holding his hands up. 

“You’re not going anywhere,” he says, then adds quickly, “Because you’re injured, not because you’re a prisoner. You’re not a prisoner.”

“And yet you won’t let me leave,” Clint counters, swaying in place.

“Because you’re injured!” Buck says, eyes wide in shock. “You’re malnourished, you’re dehydrated, you’ve got two cracked ribs and your feet are beat to shit! Not to mention all the other cuts and bruises.”

“I’ve had worse,” Clint says stubbornly, because he has. “Can I have some pants now, please?” He has to force himself to say the last word - just because it never worked before doesn’t mean it won’t work now. 

“Christ, you’re stubborn,” Buck mutters, crossing to a cabinet on the opposite wall and pulling a pair of sweatpants out of it. He puts them on the bed beside Clint, ignoring Clint’s flinch when he gets close, and backs away, staying within arms reach as Clint pulls on the pants. “Will you please get back in the bed?”

Clint does, but only because the tinge of anxiety in Bucky’s voice has him moving without really thinking about it, and even as he’s pulling his legs to his chest and wincing at the twinge in his knee, he’s cursing himself. “So I’m not a prisoner, but you’re not letting me go,” he says. “What now?”

“You can leave once you’re all healed,” Buck says. “I’m James, by the way.” Clint says nothing, staring stubbornly at a stray thread poking out of the sheets. “Fine.” James sounds annoyed. “There are sweaters in the cabinet, feel free to take one if you want. Doctors will be back to check on you in the morning.” With that, the man turns on his heel and leaves, closing the door behind him. 

Clint listens for the sound of the lock but doesn’t hear it, which means either they have a lock that his hearing aids can’t pick up or - or they didn’t lock the door. Either way, Clint immediately gets out of bed, keeping one hand on it to steady himself past the usual wave of dizziness, then shakily walks over to the cabinet James mentioned.

When he opens it, he can’t help his mouth dropping open. There’s first aid supplies and clothes and bedsheets inside, more than Clint’s ever seen in his life. There’s even a small pack of batteries on one shelf, beside a small athletic bag. He reaches for it, then stops. If this is a trick, he’s not falling for it. 

He grabs a hoodie, and after a second of deliberation, slides the batteries into the pocket. Those are too good to give up. Clint goes back to the bed and climbs on top of it, grabbing the little plastic bag with all his stuff in it. He slides the ring on the leather cord out of the bag and pulls it over his head, letting the ring fall in the hollow of his neck. Gently, he pulls the photo out and unfolds it, running a finger along the creases. He lets himself stare at it for a few seconds, then shakes his head and folds up the photo again, setting it carefully to the side. 

Next, he pulls out the money, counting it quickly. A shuddery breath makes its way out of his chest when he finishes - he hadn’t expected to find it all there, and he has to squeeze his eyes shut and count to ten before he can breathe without feeling like he’s going to start sobbing. Setting the money aside, he pulls out the arrowhead, running one thumb along the edge before setting that down as well. 

Finally, he pulls out the keychain, gripping it so tightly, he’s almost scared it’s going to crack. He takes a deep breath, psyching himself up to open his fist - but he doesn’t. He sets aside the keychain without looking at it, tucking it behind his knee so he won’t see it accidentally.

He’ll wait for it to get dark, and then he’ll make his move. He’s been here too long already.

~~

The moon’s been up for two hours when Clint slides out of the hospital bed. His ribs twinge in pain, but he ignores them and crosses the room, pulling open the cabinet. Moving quickly and methodically, he shoves medical supplies, an extra set of clothes, and two more packs of batteries into the athletic bag. He debates taking a bedsheet but ultimately decides against it as he doesn’t have enough time or space in the bag to take it with him. 

Once the bag is full, he yanks a new hoodie over his head, pulls on some socks and his beat-up old shoes and moves towards the window. With one final glance over his shoulder at the empty little room, he pushes open the window silently and climbs out. Weirdly, he’s got some guilt about leaving, but he does his best to ignore it and heads towards the forest.

He’s just passed the treeline when he hears, “You going somewhere, sweetheart?”

Cursing, Clint spins on his heel, falling into a defensive position as his eyes land on James. “Don’t call me that,” he bites out, already calculating how long it’ll take him to escape James. 

“What would you like to be called then?” James asks casually. He’s leaning against a tree in nothing but his skin and Clint keeps his eyes firmly glued to James’ face.

“Doesn’t much matter, seein’ as how I’m leaving tonight,” Clint answers. 

“You sure I can’t convince you to stay?” James pushes off the tree and stalks towards Clint, stopping just out of arm’s reach. “You’re still pretty beat up, few more nights in the hospital couldn’t hurt.”

“What part of ‘leaving tonight’ don’t you understand?” Clint scoffs. “Christ, you alpha types are all the same. Using your influence and position to just take what you want. Don’t know why I expected any different from you.”

James blinks, something flashing across his face. Clint gets the barest indication of horror from James’ scent before it’s wiped away, gone like it was never there to begin with. “Well, if you won’t stay, then the least I can do for you is keep people off your scent. Anyone comes lookin’ for you, you’ve got my word I’ll send them away from you.”

“Why would you do that?” Clint asks suspiciously.

James shrugs as he turns around and starts walking away. “I dunno how else to convince you that me ‘n’ Stevie are different, sweetheart, and you aren’t sticking around long enough to find out, so... Maybe you’ll come back one day, yeah? Let me an’ Stevie show you around or somethin’.” Just before he disappears into the trees, James casts one final look over his shoulder and smiles sadly. “Best of luck, darlin’. May the Moon be with you on your travels.” 

With that, he’s gone - vanished into the trees like he was never there, and Clint’s left staring after him, feeling like he just lost something important. He stands there for a moment, staring at the spot James disappeared and feeling lost. “Get a hold of yourself, Barton,” he growls, giving his head a sharp jerk. “You can’t stay here.”

He argues with himself all the way up to the edge of Red Star territory. Once he hits the tree that serves as a border marker, he stops moving, unable to take the step that will take him out of Steve and James’ territory. “Five minutes,” he tells himself. “Five minutes and then I gotta move.”

Five minutes turns into ten, which turns into fifteen, which turns into twenty minutes later and he’s still staring at that damn tree. “What is  _ wrong _ with me?” He mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face harshly. “Why can’t I just leave?”

Staying in one place for too long is a bad idea. Clint knows this. He knows that...  _ they _ could catch up to him at any moment, and he really doesn’t want Steve and James and their pack to be caught in the crossfire. If he stays, people will get hurt. They may even die. And Clint doesn’t think he could live with that on his conscience. 

And, for some reason, the thought of the look on James’ face, on Steve’s face, if people in their pack die because of him... That makes Clint’s wolf curl up into a ball and whimper in the back of his mind and Clint doesn’t know  _ why _ ! “What is it about those two?” He murmurs to himself. 

The thing is. The thing is, Clint  _ wants _ to stay. He  _ wants _ to let himself get better in the hospital, he  _ wants _ to maybe get to know Steve and James a little better, he wants... If he’s honest with himself, if he’s truly, blindly honest with himself - Clint wants to stay here because it’s a home. And he’s never had one of those, not really. He can see himself being happy here, maybe getting a job and making some friends.

And if he goes a little past honesty and starts hoping? There’s a tiny part of him, buried way deep down where no one but him could ever find it, that hopes that maybe he can even find a family here, to replace the one he thought he had.

“Stop that,” Clint tells himself. He shakes his head. “You’re away from them now,” he says. “There’s no reason to treat yourself like shit anymore, and if Steve and James are offering you a warm place to sleep and food to help you heal, then you’d be an idiot not to take them up on it.” And, despite what he’s been told nearly every day of his life, Clint’s not an idiot. So, with a sigh and a whispered prayer that this doesn’t come back to bite him in the tail, Clint pulls the bag a little tighter over his shoulder and starts walking back through the forest.

Back towards the hospital. Towards the warm bed in a warm room. Towards Steve and James.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bucky and Steve show Clint around the town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shoves more werewolf fic at y'all*

“Your feet are fucking freezing,” Steve informs Bucky as he slides back into bed.

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you chase after some omega in the middle of the night in nothing but your skin,” Bucky grumbles. 

“And?” Steve asks, rolling over to face him. “How’d it go?”

Bucky scoffs. “About as well as expected,” he says. “Didn’t wanna stay no matter what I said.” 

“Well, at least we tried,” Steve sighs.

“It doesn’t feel like enough,” Bucky mutters. 

“And people say I have a bleeding heart,” Steve teases. He kisses Bucky’s forehead gently and wraps an arm around him. “I know it doesn’t feel like enough, Buck, but we did all we could. We aren’t going to force him to stay if he doesn’t want to.”

“I know,” Bucky murmurs, keeping his voice quiet, “But I don’t know, Steve, something about just letting him go doesn’t sit right with me. It took everything I had to turn away from him in the woods.”

Steve hums in thought. “Could he be a potential?”

Bucky blinks. Pushes himself upright so he can look Steve in the eye. “You’re enough for me, Steve, you know that.”

Steve laughs at him, pressing a kiss to the palm Bucky has pressed to his face. “I know that, Buck. Just because you find one mate doesn’t mean you stop smelling other potentials.”

“I know,” Bucky grumbles, flopping down onto Steve’s chest. “I dunno, couldn’t really get a good scent off him. Something about him calls to my wolf, though.”

“If you really wanna know, we’ll head down to his hospital room tomorrow and sniff around, see if we can’t find an answer for you,” Steve says.

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “That’d be nice.”

“Good,” Steve yawns, “Can we sleep now?” Bucky snickers, tucking his nose into Steve’s neck and closing his eyes. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he’ll know for sure.

~~

“Steve, we gotta -” Bucky groans as Steve bites down on the tendon in his neck.

“What was that, Buck?” Steve says, smirking.

Bucky tries desperately to find his train of thought. “We came here for a reason, punk,” he pants, shoving Steve away from him. 

“I dunno, I’m having trouble remembering,” Steve teases, “Maybe you should remind me.” 

Bucky scowls and rushes past him, ducking under Steve’s arm. “Catch me if you can,” he tosses over his shoulder, barely catching the flash of Steve’s eyes before he darts away, weaving between nurses and doctors as he makes his way toward the omega’s hospital room. Fuck, he wishes he knew the omega’s name. 

Right before he reaches the hospital room, a hand latches onto his bicep and turns him around, pressing him up against the door. Steve stands in front of him, barely out of breath and staring like he wants to eat Bucky up. “Caught you,” he rumbles.

“So you did,” Bucky grins. Behind him, his hand finds the doorknob and with a twist, he and Steve fall through the opening and land on the floor - right at the feet of the omega. His gaze darts between Steve and Bucky as he stares at them, eyes wide. “We, uh -  _ oof _ !” Bucky gets the breath knocked out of him as Steve scrambles to stand up - and in the process, elbows Bucky right in the gut.

“We weren’t expecting you to still be here,” Steve says bluntly. Bucky winces as he sees the omega curl in on himself, and quickly steps in before Steve can make the situation any worse.

“What he means is that we thought you left last night,” Bucky says gently. “We were just coming to clean out the room.”

“Don’t you have people for that?” asks the omega. He flinches, like he’s expecting them to hit him for asking a question, and Bucky feels that little kernel of rage he has at the omega’s old pack grow a little.

“We like to help where we can to make the nurse’s jobs easier,” Steve says. There’s not a hint of a lie in his voice or scent, and he’s not lying really. His ma was a nurse, and the two of them  _ do _ like to help. That’s just not what they were doing this time.

“You planning on stayin’ a while?” Bucky asks hopefully.

“Just ‘til I’m healed,” the omega says hesitantly. “Then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“No rush,” Bucky says easily, “Plenty of room in RedStar for everyone who needs it.”

“Speaking of rooms,” Steve interjects, “You’ll need one.”

The omega winces. “I, uh... I don’t have money to pay for a room. But I can just sleep in the forest, it’s not a big deal.”

“Nonsense,” Bucky says firmly. He’s half about to offer that the omega stay with them, but Steve clears his throat, stopping him. “There’s a room above the local diner you can stay in,” Bucky offers instead. “You can wash dishes or serve tables or something to pay it off.”

“That’s a pretty good idea, actually,” Steve says thoughtfully. “Nat’s been complaining about not having enough help in the kitchen anyway.”

“I don’t want to put anyone out,” the omega says, but Bucky can see him wavering, can see the pure  _ want _ in his eyes at having a safe, warm place to sleep.

“Why don’t we show you around,” Bucky says kindly, “And you can decide once you’ve seen a bit of the town.”

“Don’t you have important alpha business or something?” The omega says it all casual, like it doesn’t matter in the slightest, but Bucky knows what he’s really asking.  _ How come you’re so interested in me? _ Well, they’re certainly not going to tell him they think he might be a potential mate - that would scare him away for good.

“Only important alpha business we got today is you,” Steve grins. “You got a name?”

The omega visibly wars with answering this, but eventually, he says, “Clint. My name’s Clint.”

“Well,  _ Clint _ ,” Bucky drawls, “What do you say we show you around a little?”

~~

They get caught up in showing Clint the town and introducing him to people. Clint seems particularly invested in the dogs they come across, and Bucky makes a note to himself to take Clint to the shelter sometime. When Clint’s stomach gives an audible growl, Bucky punches Steve in the shoulder playfully and says, “You’re bein’ a pretty shitty host, Stevie, lettin’ our guest go hungry.”

“Shoot!” Steve says. “Why don’t we head to the diner? You can meet Nat.”

“I guess I could eat,” Clint admits reluctantly. He hoists his bag over his shoulder and stands, turning to face them. “Which way?” Bucky points and the three of them head in that direction. As they walk, Bucky keeps half an eye on Clint. All the tension that drained out of him while he was playing with the dog comes back on their walk, and Bucky can’t help but feel that it’s somehow their fault.

When they reach the diner, Steve goes in first, presumably to talk to Nat. Bucky slides into a booth, unsurprised when Clint slides in across from him. “There’s no menu?” Clint asks hesitantly.

“You don’t order here,” Steve says cheerfully, sliding in next to Bucky. “Nat’s good at knowing what people want.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Shut up, you punk. Everyone who eats here is a regular, never orders anything different. You’re new, so Nat or Darcy’ll bring you a menu.”

“I, uh...” Clint flushes faintly. “I can’t pay for this.”

“Not a problem,” Steve says firmly. “Our treat.”

“Just this once,” Clint says reluctantly. “And I’m paying you back as soon as I can.”

Darcy bounces up to their booth, perky and smiling as usual. “What can I get you boys? The usual?”

“For me an’ Stevie, yeah,” Bucky answers. “You mind bringing a menu over for Clint, here?”

Darcy grins at him, then switches her megawatt grin onto Clint. “Sure!”

“Thanks,” Clint says hesitantly. 

Darcy winks at him. “No problem, cutie.” She heads over to the counter to grab a menu and is back within moments. “Can I get y’all somethin’ to drink? Coffee?”

Bucky sees the hopeful look cross Clint’s face before he can hide it, and promptly says, “Sure, Darce, one for each of us, yeah?”

“Comin’ right up, Buckster!” With another wink for Clint, Darcy disappears into the kitchen.

“She’s... interesting,” Clint says, somewhat shell-shocked.

Steve laughs. “Yep. That’s our Darcy. Always smiling, always flirting. Wouldn’t have her any other way.” The table falls silent as they wait for their coffee. Bucky watches Clint look over the menu, trying to figure out something to say. “So, you like dogs?” Steve asks, breaking the silence.

“Uh, I guess,” Clint says, gaze flicking between them and the menu. “I’ve never had one but I always liked playing with the ones at the -” Abruptly, he cuts himself off, and Steve and Bucky exchange a look. 

“If you’d like,” Bucky says cautiously, “We could probably set you up with a gig at the animal shelter. I think they’ve been needing another set of hands anyway, and I think you’d get along with Bruce.” For a split second, Clint lights up at the prospect of seeing dogs every day, but before Bucky or Steve can even react, he’s closed himself off again. 

“Sure,” he says, clearly trying to hide his interest. “That’d be cool, I guess.”

“Great!” Steve says, grinning. “I’ll let Bruce know and you can start tomorrow. I’ll show you where to go in the morning.”

“Coffee for my favourite customers!” Darcy says, walking up with fresh brewed coffee. She pours it into their mugs, flirting the whole while, and by the time she leaves Clint’s blushing and Steve’s snickering into Bucky’s shoulder. “Nat’ll be out in a minute or two,” Darcy informs them. 

“Sure, doll,” Bucky says. They place their orders (waffles for Steve, a burger for Bucky, and both with a side of bacon and fries for Clint) and Darcy salutes before heading off to take their orders to the kitchen. “So, what do you think of RedStar so far?” Bucky asks. 

“It’s nice,” Clint says slowly. “Everyone seems pretty friendly. How long have you two been the alphas?”

Bucky snorts. “Technically, Steve’s the alpha. I’m just his lowly mate.”

Steve shoves him. “Stop that, you know you’re just as important as I am. Not that I put much stock in the alpha equals top wolf crap, anyway.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Anyway, Steve’s ma used to be the alpha, but she passed a few years ago. Shoulda seen Stevie here before the power transfer. Skinny as a stick and shorter than me.”

“Really?” Clint asks, eyes wide. “But you’re so...” He gestures at Steve’s bulk vaguely, then blushes.

“Power transfer is a hell of a thing,” Steve says solemnly. “I’d give it all up in a second to have my Ma back though.” Bucky takes his hand and squeezes gently, looking at his mate sadly. 

“Sarah Rogers was a helluva woman,” he says quietly, rubbing his thumb over Steve’s knuckles. “She’s missed every day, Steve.”

“Yeah,” Steve mutters. He blinks harshly and looks up at Clint. “But you wanted to know how we became the alpha pair. After I bulked up, I finally got up the courage to ask Buck here to be my official mate, and that was the end of it.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Like you even had to ask, punk. End of the line, remember?” Clint’s watching the two of them, fascinated, like he’s never seen a pair of mates act like them - Bucky doesn’t even want to think about what it means if he hasn’t. 

“Yeah, I remember,” Steve says fondly. Before he can say anything else, Darcy appears at the end of the table holding their food. 

“Your meals, gentlemen,” she says poshly, winking at Clint. He flushes again, ducking his head and tucking into his burger. Bucky and Steve start eating their food as well, albeit not nearly as fast as Clint. He’s plowing through his meal like he thinks it’s going to be taken from him, and Bucky wants to tell him to slow down - but he’s afraid that if he does, Clint will stop eating all together.

About halfway through, Nat appears at Steve’s side silently, face impassive. “Who’s this?” She asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“This is Clint,” Steve says easily. “He’s gonna be using the room above the diner for a while. In return, he’ll help you out down here if you need it.”

Clint waves sheepishly, half a french fry hanging out of his mouth. “Nice to meet you,” he says after he swallows his food.

Natasha hums in response. “He’ll do,” she says, nodding sharply. That said, she vanishes from Steve’s side like she was never there. 

“I don’t think she likes me,” Clint says, eyes wide.

“She’s like that with everyone,” Steve explains. “She’ll warm up to you once you’ve been here for a bit. Nat’s a big softie.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Bucky scoffs. “Nat takes no shit from anyone, but doesn’t give any either. She’s painfully honest and somehow always seems to know what’s happening around here before anyone else. Don’t sneak up on her, don’t touch her without her consent, and don’t play pranks on her.”

Clint blinks. Shoves another fry into his mouth and chews thoughtfully. “No sneaking, no touching, no pranks,” he says. “Got it.”

Steve nods at Clint’s plate. “You done? We can get the rest of it packed up if you want. Still got a bunch of territory left to show you, including the best place to run.” 

Clint perks up when Steve says run and nods. “I haven’t been on a run in  _ ages _ ,” Clint says wistfully. Bucky motions Darcy over and asks her to pack up whatever food is left, then refocuses on Clint. “Back- Back where I came from,” Clint says carefully, “I didn’t go on runs very often. I miss it.”

Steve grins. “It’s settled then. Once we get our food, we’ll take you to our favourite place to run.”

Clint smiles at them hesitantly. It lights up his whole face and Bucky has to fight to keep the breath in his lungs. “That would be nice,” Clint says. “Thank you.”

~~

Clint’s wolf is  _ gorgeous _ . Bucky nearly tripped over himself when Clint stepped out from behind the tree he had gone behind to shift. Despite being taller than both him and Steve while in human form, Clint’s wolf form is smaller than both of them. He’s got fur the same colour as his hair (dirty blond), a lean, well-muscled frame, and he’s  _ fast _ . 

He’s playful, too. Steve, also in wolf form, had gone over to sniff at him and Clint had danced away, igniting Steve’s competitive nature and sending the two of them off on a chase through the woods. Bucky huffs to himself and shakes his head, turning in a circle before setting his head down on his paws. His eyes drift shut as he listens to the soothing sounds of the forest, broken only by the barks and howls of Steve and Clint’s wolves, chasing each other through the trees.


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Clint learns something interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING: There is some very frank discussion of the abuse in Clint's childhood in this chapter. If you'd like to avoid it, stop reading at "We're here to listen," and start reading again at "Jesus,".
> 
> Enjoy!!

It’s  _ almost _ weird how quickly Clint settles into RedStar. He gets up in the morning, has breakfast in the diner, spends the day helping Dr. Banner at the shelter, washes dishes and helps with the dinner rush at the diner, and then spends the next few hours doing whatever he wants. He’s explored most of the town so far - planning out the quickest escape routes, mostly, even though he doesn’t want to.

He can’t help it. There’s always this niggling thought in the back of his brain that it won’t last. This peaceful thing he’s built for himself - where he has a regular order at the diner, where he knows to jiggle the shelter’s back door because it sticks, where he can hear someone shout his name and not tense up in fear - it won’t last. It  _ can’t _ last.

The weirdest thing, though? The weirdest thing is how much Steve and Bucky have been hanging around him. He’s pretty sure that they’ve got better stuff to do, being alphas and all, but he doesn’t really want to bring it up because if he’s honest? He likes having them around. Probably likes it a little too much, really, but Clint’s accepted that nothing is ever going to happen. 

For one, Steve and Bucky are together in a big way. They don’t rub it in his face or anything, but every now and then Clint catches a glimpse of their bond marks, silvery scar winking out at him whenever Steve throws his head back in laughter or Bucky tucks his hair behind his ear and ducks his head. 

Tied with Steve and Bucky for best thing about RedStar is the archery range. Really it’s just a sports center, but Clint found a half-decent bow and a few arrows tucked away in a corner a few days ago and it was like a part of him he didn’t even know was missing slotted back into his chest. The bow’s way too light for Clint and the arrows are wonky and the fletching isn’t very well done, but Clint doesn’t care. As he waves goodbye to Dr. Banner as he locks up the shelter, Clint finds himself buzzing with energy at the thought of holding that bow in his hands again. 

“Y’know, I think that’s the first time I’ve seen a real smile cross that face of yours,” a voice drawls from behind him. Clint spins around and finds Bucky and Steve leaning against a tree and grinning at him. 

Clint grins wider at the sight of them, too excited about the bow to temper himself. “Bucky! Steve! It’s good to see you guys.”

“‘S good to see you too, Clint,” Steve says cautiously. “What’s got you in such a good mood, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I found a bow at the sports centre!” Clint bursts. His cheeks hurt from the force of his grin.

“Like an archery bow?” Bucky asks, raising an eyebrow. Clint nods. “I didn’t know we had a range here.”

Clint shrugs as the two men fall into step beside him. “It’s not so much a range as it is a piece of cardboard with a target painted on it,” he laughs. “Works just fine for me though.”

“You any good?” Steve asks curiously.

Clint winks at him. “Why don’t you come find out?” He says easily. Steve blinks, taken aback at what Clint now realizes could be taken as flirting, and nods. “Great!” Clint says, looking over at Bucky. “It’s been a while since I had an adoring audience.”

“Glad we could provide,” Bucky says drily. “Anything interesting happen at the shelter today?” Clint tells them about his day, about how one of the strays they have at the shelter just gave birth to a litter of puppies - seven of them. 

“I wish I could get one,” Clint says wistfully. “But I don’t think Natasha likes dogs.” He sees the way Bucky and Steve are looking at each other and speeds up his pace a little, hoping to get to the range before they ask why he doesn’t start looking for his own place. “Here we are!” He says, spreading his arms wide. 

Steve and Bucky look around curiously as Clint grabs the bow and a few arrows from where he stashed them. “You gonna put on a show for us, sweetheart?” Bucky calls, smirking. Despite himself, Clint flushes at the nickname. 

“I thought I told you not to call me that,” he says half-heartedly, stringing the bow. 

“Yeah, Buck,” Steve says, elbowing him. Turning to Clint, he calls out, “Well, darlin’?”

Clint can feel the blush travelling down his neck at the pet name, so he turns away before they can see and takes a breath. He’s only got a few arrows - and only two of them are any good - so he’s gotta make them all count. He nocks the arrow, aims, and fires.

It  _ thunks _ into the makeshift target, about half an inch from the top. He keeps firing arrows until he’s out, and the target is bristling with arrows set into a star shape. Bucky whistles. “Damn, Clint,” he says as he walks over to the target. “You weren’t kidding about being good at this.”

Clint shrugs. “Just about the only thing I’m really good at,” he says, setting the bow down gently. He heads over to the target and starts pulling arrows out, trying not to warp them any further. “Had to be good at it back where I come from, or I wasn’t worth much.”

“Clint,” Steve says gently.

“No, I gotta- I gotta get this out now,” Clint says stubbornly. “Else I never will.”

“We’re here to listen,” Bucky says quietly. They don’t touch him, and Clint’s glad for that - he’s not entirely sure he wants to be touched right now - but they stand close enough to him that he can feel the heat coming off their bodies. It reassures him.

“I’m not worth much,” Clint starts. “Don’t say nothin’, I know it’s true. Been told that all my life, pretty much, from everyone who mattered. And a couple that didn’t. Growing up, my dad wasn’t so great. Beat the hell outta me, and my brother, even though my brother stepped in where he could to protect me. One day, he didn’t and my dad beat the hearing right out of me. Not too long after that, him and my ma were both dead. Car accident. My dad was drunk and he wrapped them around a tree.” Clint pulls the ring out of his shirt and holds it up so they can see. “This is her wedding ring, it’s all I got left of her.”

“Clint, I -”

“Please don’t,” Clint says, flinching away from Steve’s hand. “Just let me get through this. Please.” They nod, and Clint continues. “They were gonna put me and Barney in foster care, split us up. Barney wasn’t gonna let that happen, not to us. So we ran away, joined the circus. It was good. For a while. I learned how to shoot. Became the Amazing Hawkeye. I could shoot an apple off your head blindfolded and around a corner.”

“Sounds pretty cool,” Bucky offers.

Clint nods. “It was. For a while, like I said. We were there for a few years. Found a family, travelled- I couldn’t see myself being anywhere else.” He grins wistfully, remembering the early days. “And then, once I got old enough, they started taking me on other jobs. At first, I was just the lookout. I got a cut of whatever they came back with, so I did what I was told. The last job I went on though...” He shakes his head. “Last job I went on, they told me to kill a security guard. Said we’d all go to jail if I didn’t, because he’d seen their faces and would tell the cops. I refused, they shot him anyway, then beat me and tossed me in the elephant’s cage when we got back to the circus.”

“They punished you because you wouldn’t kill a man?” Steve says incredulously.

“It was maybe not the best environment for a child to grow up in,” Clint mutters. “They wouldn’t let me skip out on the next show, so after my act was finished and they were all in the Big Top tent still, I snuck into the Ringmaster’s trailer, downloaded his computer onto a flash drive, grabbed my cut of the money from the previous jobs, and got the hell out of there. I’d been running for a week and a half when you found me.”

“Jesus,” breathes Bucky.

“Holy shit,” mutters Steve.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Clint starts.

Bucky cuts him off. “What we’re thinking, sweetheart, is that you were smart to get out of there when you did. I can’t imagine how hard this has been for you, leaving your only family behind.”

“You don’t think I was... weak?” Clint asks, scarcely able to believe his ears.

“Of course not!” Bucky says fiercely. 

“Darlin’, what those people did to you was terrible,” Steve says firmly, “And you didn’t deserve any of it. None of it, you hear me? But that doesn’t make it any easier for you to leave them behind, especially if they were all you knew.”

Clint doesn’t know what to say. He wasn’t expecting them to take his side. He wasn’t expecting any of this. He opens his mouth to say something, he’s not sure what - and promptly bursts into tears. “I don’t- I’m sorry-” he says through his sobs.

“Nothing to be sorry about, sweetheart,” Bucky says firmly. “Can I hug you?” He waits for Clint to nod before he pulls him in for a hug, and the feeling of Bucky’s arms wrapping around him and Steve at his back should make Clint feel trapped, but instead it just makes him feel safe. Bucky makes soothing noises and Steve rubs his back, and Clint uses the time spent sobbing into Bucky’s shirt to bury his nose into Bucky’s chest and scent him. Bucky gently pulls him away at some point and Clint prepares himself to apologize and run away, but he’s just turned around and gets a noseful of Steve’s scent as well, which sets off more tears.

Eventually, he gets a hold of himself, extracting himself from their arms and apologizing. “I’m sorry-” he starts.

“Like Buck said,” Steve says, smiling gently at him, “Nothing to be sorry for.”

“Could you walk me home?” Clint blurts. At the surprised looks on their faces, he immediately backtracks. “Never mind, I don’t know why I said that, it was dumb.”

“We’d be happy to walk you home, darlin’,” Steve says. He reaches out carefully and, when Clint makes no move to get away, wraps his hand around Clint’s. 

“It would make our night.” Bucky comes up on Clint’s other side, smiling. As they pass through the door to the sports centre, he turns off the lights. “Always happy to spend more time with you, sweetheart.” As they walk, Steve and Bucky fill the air with tales of their time as RedStar alphas, and by the time they reach the diner, and Clint’s place by default, Clint’s laughing along with them as they tell him about the time Steve had to run naked through the town square because of a prank by one of their friends. 

“I’d like to meet this Tony,” Clint grins. “I think we’d get along nicely.”

“Stick around long enough and he’ll find you,” Bucky says gently.

Silence falls, but it’s not awkward. More... anticipatory. It builds and builds, until it could be cut with a knife, and Clint  _ swears _ he sees Bucky tensing like he’s going to move in, and then - “This was fun,” Clint says. “Sorry about your shirts.” He gestures at their shirts, which are only now almost completely dry of Clint’s tears. 

“We’re glad we could be there for you,” Steve says. “Any time.”

“Okay,” Clint says quietly. “Goodnight.” He smiles at them faintly then turns around and walks up the stairs to the rooms above the diner, slipping inside and shutting the door behind him without looking back. Once the door is closed, he slumps against it. “Fuck.” He is so screwed. Why’d he have to go and get feelings for the mated pair of alphas?

The next day, Clint makes the two alphas lunch - nothing fancy, just some sandwiches - to apologize for crying all over them. He brings it to their office in the Town Hall around noon, and they don’t seem angry when he pokes his head around the door. They actually seem kinda happy to see him, and that does all sorts of things to Clint’s heart - not that he’s acknowledging that. “I made you guys lunch to thank you for letting me cry all over yesterday,” he says, ducking his head. 

“You cooked for us?” Bucky asks slowly.

“Yeah, I just thought it’d be nice to do something for you,” Clint answers. “But I’m starting to think that it maybe wasn’t such a good idea,” he says when he sees the look they exchange.

“No, Clint, this is great,” Steve says firmly, curling his hands around the sandwich bag like he thinks Clint is gonna try and take it back. “Thank you.”

“Do you want to stay and eat with us?” Bucky asks - is that hope in his voice?

“I can’t,” Clint says apologetically. “I promised Natasha I’d be back for the lunch rush, so I gotta go. I hope you like the food!” He waves at them and leaves, mulling over the interaction in his head the whole way back to the diner. 

“Well?” Darcy asks as soon as he walks in the door. “Did they like it? Did they accept it?”

“I guess?” Clint shrugs. “They seemed a bit confused that I would bring them food, but they took it.” 

Darcy squeals, the high-pitched noise making his aids shriek with feedback. “Clint, that’s great!” She bounces over to him and yanks him into a hug, squeezing tightly. 

“Alright, is there some sort of thing with bringing someone food that I don’t know about?” Clint jokes. Darcy pulls away and holds him at arm's length. 

“You- you really don’t know?” She asks, eyes wide.

“So there  _ is _ something with food?” Clint asks, confused.

Darcy shakes her head. “No, nope, nuh-uh, I am not qualified to deal with this. Natasha!” She moves around the counter, disappearing into the kitchen. Natasha appears moments later, taking Clint’s arm and directing him into a booth.

“What’s going on?” Clint asks nervously. “Did I just send a death threat to Steve and Bucky or something?”

“Not... exactly,” Natasha murmurs. “How much do you know about ‘wolf mating rituals?”

Clint blinks. “We have mating rituals?”

“Nothing, then,” Natasha says, smiling dryly. 

“Oh fuck, please don’t tell me I just proposed marriage or something,” Clint groans, dropping his head on the table.

“Not quite.” Great. She sounds amused. “Wolves have a certain set of steps that we go through when we have a potential mate.”

“What, like dating?” 

She shakes her head. “When wolves discover a potential mate, if all parties are interested, they can declare their intention to pursue each other. There’s a series of steps that have to happen between the declaration of intent and the final mating ceremony, or the bonding.”

Fuck.  _ Fuck. _ “What are the steps?” Clint asks cautiously, not entirely sure he wants to know. 

“First, there’s the declaration of intent. The wolves announce their intent to pursue each other to the pack, or just their families. It’s fallen out of practice in the last century or so, but usually at least two other people know about the courting. After that, the wolves must prove that they can provide for their intended mate, which usually involves providing food for them.”

“Shit,” Clint groans. “But I didn’t mean it like that!”

“Didn’t you?” Natasha raises an eyebrow at him and flushes. “After that comes proving your strength. Usually in combat against other wolves. We have a festival each year that has wrestling and other competitions for that exact purpose.”

Clint tries very hard not to picture Steve and Bucky all dirty and sweaty from wrestling - he fails. Miserably. “Then what?” He asks.

Natasha smirks at him, like she knows exactly what was going through his mind. “Gifts. Four in total. The first has to do with the pursued wolf’s profession, the second with a hobby of theirs, the third is something handmade that isn’t food that relates to the pursuer, and the fourth is some form of jewelry or other adornment. If two or more gifts are rejected, then the courting process is stopped.”

“Why gifts?” A fresh wave of anger washes over him at the realization that his old pack - that  _ Barney _ \- didn’t tell him about this stuff.

“To show that their feelings are true,” Natasha answers. “Each gift is a way for the pursuer to show their intended that they know them, deeply and truly.”

“What happens after that?”

Natasha grins at him, something in her expression making Clint blush. “The scenting. The wolves scent each other  _ very _ thoroughly, so that they’ll smell like each other. It signifies that they’re unavailable to any other wolves that may be poking around. Once the scenting has taken place, the wolves mate.”

“Mate. Like...” Clint trails off, not entirely sure how to phrase his question.

“They fuck,” Natasha says bluntly. Clint squeaks. “It’s supposed to be for the first time, but no one really cares if it’s not. What matters is that the wolves belong to each other now.”

“Belong to each other,” Clint says slowly. “Forever?”

“Doesn’t have to be,” Natasha says gently. “If the wolves aren’t around each other for an extended period of time, then the scent fades.”

“What if-” Clint stumbles over his words, blushing so fiercely he’s a little surprised he can’t feel the heat coming off his face. “What if the wolves  _ want _ it to be forever?”

“That’s when the bonding bite comes in,” Natasha says matter-of-factly. “The involved wolves bite down right here,” she reaches forward and taps the spot right where his neck meets his shoulder, making him shiver, “And as long as they break skin, the bite will scar. It gives them the ability to read each other’s emotions, and it enhances their scent as well.”

“Is that what Steve and Bucky have?” Clint asks quietly. “On their necks?”

Natasha nods. “Bonding should not be taken lightly because if a bonded wolf dies, whoever they’re bonded with can feel it. It can’t be undone by anything, not even death, and you can’t take it back.” Her tone and expression are deadly serious, and Clint gulps before nodding. 

“Bonding, not a joke,” he says weakly. “Got it. Thanks for telling me all that.”

“What else are friends for?” Natasha says, grinning at him. 

“Wait, Steve and Bucky knew about this? Why wouldn’t they say anything?” Clint can feel himself getting mad, but Natasha lays a hand on his arm gently, stopping him from blowing up.

“How would you have taken it?” She asks gently. “If these two alphas told you that this was a gesture that was supposed to signify strong feelings for them? That it was a signal of courtship?”

Clint sighs, the anger draining out of him. “Probably not well,” he admits.

“Exactly,” Natasha nods. “Now that you’re in the know, stop lazing about and get back to work! Lunch rush’ll be in soon.” She pats him on the arm and slides out of the booth, sending him a wink over her shoulder before heading back into the kitchen. 

“Yes ma’am,” Clint says, saluting jokingly. His mind is racing with all the new information, and even as he’s smiling and greeting the customers as they pour into the diner, his mind keeps sticking on one thing.

When he brought them food, Steve and Bucky accepted it. They knew what it meant, and they accepted it. Could that mean... No. It couldn’t mean that they want to court him. Besides, they have each other. Why would they want him?

“Night, Nat!” Clint calls, waving as she locks up the diner. “Have a good night! Thanks again for today.”

She winks at him. “Like I said, what are friends for?” She waves once more before disappearing around the corner of the building, and Clint tilts his head up, closing his eyes and letting the moonlight wash over him. When he opens his eyes again, he sees two familiar figures walking towards them. 

“Hi, Clint,” Steve says hesitantly.

“Steve,” Clint says. “Bucky. Do you want to come up?”

“We shouldn’t,” Bucky says. “We just wanted to apologize for how we acted at lunch. We should have told you what that meant.”

“It was wrong of us to just assume,” Steve continues.

Clint shakes his head. “You have no need to apologize. You couldn’t have known that I didn’t know about were courting rituals. If anything, I should be apologizing.”

“For what?” Bucky asks.

Clint shrugs and hopes that the dim light hides his blush. “For hoping that it  _ could _ mean something, even after Natasha filled me in. You two have each other, I shouldn’t get in the way of that.” The two men are silent, and Clint feels the tension rise as he scuffs his shoe along the gravel.

“If we’re being honest,” Bucky starts slowly, “I’ve been drawn to you since that first day in the hospital.”

Clint’s head snaps up and he stares. “You  _ what _ ?”

“It’s true,” Steve says, “I could tell. We were actually going to your hospital room that next morning to see if you were a potential mate for us. These last few weeks have confirmed what Bucky initially thought - you are a potential mate, Clint. For both of us.”

“Oh,” Clint says faintly. “Wow. That’s... a lot to take in.”

“We know,” Bucky says gently. “And you don’t have to answer us now, please take your time - but... we were wondering -”

“We were wondering if you’d be willing to be courted by us,” Steve blurts. “Because we’d like to court you. A lot. We like you. Also a lot.”

Clint blinks. “Oh.” Absently, he reaches up to check if his aids are working right. (They are.) 

“Like I said, you don’t have to answer right away,” Bucky says. “Just know that we’d like to -”

“Are you kidding me?” Clint blurts. “Fuck yes!”

Bucky stops dead. “Really?” He asks, eyes wide. Steve laughs brightly, practically bouncing on his feet.

“Really!” Clint grins. Steve grabs him and swings him around, both of them laughing loudly. When Steve puts him down, Clint’s dizzy and his face hurts from laughing. The three of them stand there smiling like idiots for a few minutes, holding hands in the moonlight. 

“We should let you rest,” Bucky says. Leaning in hesitantly, he drops a kiss on Clint’s cheek. “Goodnight,” he murmurs. His voice is deep and rumbly and Clint shivers, unable to stop himself from pulling in a huge lungful of air and with it, Bucky’s scent. 

“You smell good,” he blurts. Fuck. Clint turns bright red. “I mean, goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Steve says. He, too, kisses Clint on the cheek and Clint gets a lungful of his scent as well.  _ Fuck _ , they both smell so good. When he moves away, Clint can’t help the little whimper that escapes his throat, causing both men to stare at him, their eyes practically black. “If we don’t leave now,” Steve starts.

“We won’t leave at all,” Bucky finishes.

“Wouldn’t want that,” Clint says weakly. (Lie! He wants that. He very much wants that.) “Bye.”

“Bye, sweetheart,” Bucky says, voice soft. 

“Bye, darlin’,” Steve says, equally as soft. Clint whimpers again as he watches them leave. Shit. He is so screwed. In the best possible way.


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dates and darlin's and danger, oh my!

The next morning, Clint’s halfway through his second cup of coffee when he remembers the night before. “Fuck,” he mutters. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He has zero clue how any of this works. Shit, shit, _ shit_. He’s snapped out of his internal panic when someone knocks on his door, and he’s already pulling it open when he remembers that he’s not wearing a shirt. “Hi,” he says, eyes wide. Steve and Bucky stare at him. “I’m... gonna go put on a shirt.” He leaves the door open and rushes back to his bedroom, pulling a purple shirt over his head.

“We brought you coffee,” Bucky says, handing him a thermos when he gets back to the kitchen.

“Thanks,” Clint says. He takes the thermos. The three of them stand there for a few seconds in awkward silence.

“Fuck this,” Steve blurts. Turning to Clint, he says, “Can I kiss you good morning?”

Clint can do nothing but nod breathlessly. Steve leans in, his warm breath washing over Clint’s face for almost too long - just as Clint is about to say something, Steve kisses him. It’s a _ really _ good kiss. Clint’s hand ends up winding through Steve’s hair, tugging gently and in return, Steve nips at Clint’s lower lip, making him gasp. Before the kiss can go too far, Steve pulls back, gently pressing another kiss - and another - to Clint’s jaw, before backing away completely. 

“Shit,” Clint says, bringing his hand to his mouth. “You’re pretty good at that.”

“My turn,” Bucky growls, and before Clint can react, Bucky’s moved across the kitchen and is kissing him. He swallows Clint’s surprised huff of air, cradling his face carefully. Steve’s kiss was exploratory, cautious even. Bucky’s, on the other hand, is all-consuming, devouring, and full of promise. 

By the time Bucky pulls away, Clint’s practically hanging off of him, gasping for air. “Fucking hell,” he breathes. “Do that again.” Bucky laughs, pressing his face to Clint’s neck and inhaling.

“As much as we’d love to keep you here all day, sugar,” Steve says, smirking, “You have a job to get to, and so do we.”

“Are you sure?” Clint asks, grabbing Steve’s arm and pulling him close. Steve copies Bucky and plants his face in Clint’s neck, breathing deeply.

“Yeah, Stevie,” Bucky says, lifting his head. His voice is hoarse with want and Clint quickly locks his knees to keep them from wobbling noticeably. “Are you sure?”

Steve groans. “Getting less sure with every second,” he mutters. With one final inhale, both Steve and Bucky pull away from Clint, leaving him feeling oddly cold. “We cannot play hooky, Buck, no matter how much we want to.”

“Buzzkill,” Bucky grumbles. He presses a gentle kiss to the junction of Clint’s neck and shoulder - right where a bonding bite would go, not that Clint is even _ thinking _ about that - and backs away, hands lingering on Clint.

“Are we telling people about this? About us?” Clint blurts. He winces. Dammit. Way to ruin the mood, Barton. Steve tilts his face towards them. 

“Whatever you want to do, Clint,” he says firmly. Bucky nods. 

“I...” Clint hesitates. “I sort of want to keep you to myself for a bit,” he confesses. “But maybe we could tell a few people? Like Natasha? That’s the first step, isn’t it?”

Steve lights up. So does Bucky, but he’s better at hiding it. “Yeah, sugar, it is. You sure?”

Clint takes a deep breath and grins at them. “I’ve never been more sure.”

* * *

The noise Darcy makes when he tells her - he was actually telling Natasha, but Darcy is endearingly nosy - is almost high enough to shatter a glass. “Clint, that’s _ amazing _ !” She shouts. “I’m so happy for you! Has anyone given Steve and Bucky the shovel talk? Can I do it? Oh, _ please _ can I do it? I’ve always wanted to give someone the shovel talk.” She clasps her hands together and bounces in place in front of him, a pleading look on her face. 

“No shovel talk,” Clint says firmly. “I appreciate it Darce, I do, but we’re keeping it just between us for now. We’re only telling a few people.”

“And I was one of them?” Darcy gasps. She yanks him into a hug tight enough to crack ribs. “Clint, I’m _ honoured_! Truly! I’m so glad you feel like you can tell me about this!” She releases him from her boa constrictor impressions, then shrieks again and darts into the kitchen. “We need cake!” She cries. “To celebrate!”

From beside him, Natasha watches her go. “Do you think we should tell her you were telling me?”

“And crush her soul?” Clint snorts. “Nah. I don’t mind her knowing. It’s nice to know she cares.”

“We both do,” Natasha says firmly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We want good things for you, Clint. You deserve good things.”

Clint swallows past the lump in his throat and nods. Darcy comes rushing back out of the kitchen, holding a cupcake in her hands. “This is all I could find,” she says, shoving it into his hands. 

“Thanks, Darcy,” Clint grins. He breaks it into three pieces and offers the two ladies a piece each. “To the future,” he says, saluting them with his cupcake.

“To the future!” They chorus. (The cupcake is delicious.)

* * *

“I’m warning you now, I don’t do well with surprises,” Clint laughs, stumbling over a rock on the ground. 

“You’ll like this one,” Steve says into his ear. Clint shivers. 

“Was the blindfold really necessary?” He complains. “You could’ve just asked me to close my eyes.” Steve had picked him up from the diner right when the lunch rush ended and handed him a piece of black silk. 

“Would you have been able to keep yourself from peeking?” Steve asks, laughter in his voice. His hands on Clint’s shoulders guide him around a corner and through a door.

“Probably not,” Clint admits. He trusts Steve, he does - he just likes to know where he’s going, that’s all.

“We’re here,” Steve says, coming to a halt. He gently unties the blindfold from around Clint’s eyes, giving him a few seconds to adjust to the sudden brightness. 

Clint blinks, eyes wide and looking around in awe. “What is this?” He asks breathlessly. He’s in a kitchen - an unfamiliar one, which means that it can only be Steve and Bucky’s. Clint takes a second to let the knowledge that they have brought him into their home sink in, looking around as he does. It’s tastefully decorated, but before he can take in any details, he gets distracted.

“I thought I’d cook for you,” Bucky’s voice says. Clint looks to his left to find Bucky in an apron, hair pulled up into a messy bun with a smudge of something on his cheek. “Thought it’d be romantic.”

“It is romantic,” Clint says. He walks towards Bucky and reaches out, brushing the smudge off his cheek. He pops his thumb into his mouth to clean it off, smirking slightly when Bucky’s eyes snap to his mouth. “Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” Bucky smiles. Clint leans in and plants a kiss on Bucky’s nose, snickering at the noise Bucky makes. 

“Hey, where’s mine?” Steve complains. Clint makes a face at Bucky, making the shorter man snort, and turns around, reeling Steve in by his tie and smacking a kiss right between his eyes. Steve’s eyes cross as he tries to keep Clint in his sights and Clint laughs. 

“Those don’t count as proper hello kisses,” Bucky points out, pressing himself up against Clint’s back. 

“True,” Clint hums. “But if I kissed you how I wanted, the food would burn.” Bucky growls, low in his throat, and Steve’s eyes go black with want. “So, what’s for lunch?” Clint asks brightly, slipping free of their grasp. 

Bucky blinks in surprise to find his arms full of the wrong blond lover, and he gives an exasperated look to Clint, who shrugs unapologetically. “Just for that, you don’t get to know until it’s in front of you,” he says, raising an eyebrow. 

Clint pouts. “Aw, c’mon,” he pleads. “Steve, back me up here.”

Steve grins, settling his chin on Clint’s shoulder. “No can do, sugar. I already know what’s for lunch, and you deserve this anyway.”

“You guys are mean,” Clint grumbles half-heartedly. He pouts and crosses his arms over his chest, but the effect is mostly ruined when Bucky drops a kiss on his cheek - barely more than a peck, really - and makes him blush. 

“You like our mean,” Steve teases.

“I’m honestly still having trouble believing this is even really happening,” Clint admits.

“It’s happening,” Bucky says immediately, stopping what he’s doing and grabbing Clint’s hand. 

“We’re here,” Steve agrees, taking his other hand. 

“Okay,” Clint says softly, grinning like an idiot. Bucky presses a kiss to his knuckles before going back to the food, and Steve holds his hand and rubs a thumb over his knuckles until Bucky’s finished putting the food down. It’s a pretty good start to the date, and it only gets better from there. The food is delicious, the company’s fantastic, and Clint’s ready to explode at the end of it. “That was amazing, Bucky.”

“You liked it?” Bucky says hopefully. Clint nods. 

“I would’ve helped,” Steve says sheepishly, “But I’m not allowed to cook anymore.”

“There are _ still _ scorch marks on the ceiling from the last time you tried to cook,” Bucky says flatly. “No way were you trying again. Not for something this important.”

“I would just like it acknowledged that I bought the food,” Steve says. 

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Yes, Steve, none of this would have been possible without you. What would I do without you, my hero.” The two bicker for a bit longer and Clint just watches them, occasionally taking a side to rile them up further.

“Thank you,” Clint interrupts. “_Both _ of you,” he adds when Steve opens his mouth. “This was delicious and I had a great time.”

“A good enough time to go out with us again?” Steve asks, not so casually. Bucky nods, hope flashing across his face.

Clint grins. “I believe I said _ great_,” he answers. “Yes, I would love to do it again.”

“Good,” Bucky says, beaming at him. “Because the yearly games are next week, and we were wondering if you wanted to go with us.”

They both look at him hopefully, and Clint is helpless against their stares. “I’d love to,” he says softly. 

“Then it’s a date!” 

* * *

In the days leading up to the start of the games, the three of them go on a few more dates. All of them ended with kisses - the most recent one ended with Clint pinned between Bucky and Steve against the door of the apartment above the diner. They were sucking marks into his neck, hands roaming his body, and Clint was _ just _ about to ask them to come inside - and then they stopped. 

Clint whined in protest, trying to pull them both closer. “We want to do this right, sweetheart,” Bucky said, panting into Clint’s back. 

“You have no idea how hard this is,” Steve said, letting his head fall back against the door. 

“I think I have some idea,” Clint muttered, pushing his hips against Steve’s. He could feel how hard Steve was, and Bucky was the same - and Clint sure as hell was hard enough to pound nails. 

“You deserve the best,” Bucky said. “We want to give that to you.”

Clint sighed and let his head fall onto Steve’s collarbone. “I can respect that,” he grumbled. Disentangling himself from them, he gave them each a kiss goodnight... Then, just before he shut the door, he grinned wickedly. “But just know that I’m jerking myself off tonight thinking of you.” He relished in their shocked faces for a split second before closing the door on them, leaning his forehead against it. 

“Are you sure we can’t-” Steve whined.

“I’m sure,” Bucky cut him off. “He deserves our best effort, Stevie.”

“He does,” Steve agreed. “But my _ dick _ hurts.”

* * *

“Clint, over here!” Clint looks around until he finds Darcy waving at him. He waves back and heads over, slipping through the crowd until he’s at her side. “Excited?”

“It’ll be interesting,” Clint says. “These are my first games.”

“Aw, we’re popping your cherry!” Darcy coos, pinching his cheek. He swats her hand away, opening his mouth to retort- 

“Welcome!” Steve’s voice rings through the crowd, silencing the low hum of conversation. Steve grins out at his pack, happiness radiating from every inch of him. “We’re so glad you could make it!”

“It’s not like it happens every year, Stevie,” Bucky teases from beside him. Laughter ripples through the gathered crowd as Steve jabs Bucky with his elbow jokingly.

“As I was _ saying_,” Steve huffs, “Welcome to the annual RedStar festival! As usual, there will be a market running all day over by the sports centre, food, games and other fun activities in the main square, and competitions will be taking place in Lookout Field later today. Enjoy!” The crowd breaks out into applause and slowly disperses, groups breaking off and heading in various directions. 

“So, what do you want to do first?” Darcy asks him.

Clint shrugs. “I was going to wait for Steve and Bucky -”

“They always spend the first half-hour or so mingling and talking to everybody,” Darcy says. “We could go check out the market?”

“Sure,” Clint grins, letting Darcy tow him along. “What sort of stuff is sold at this market?”

“Oh, all kinds of stuff!” Darcy proceeds to list everything from soap (“Handmade by Drax, makes your skin _ super _ soft!”) to food (“Oh, Luis makes the _ best _ apple pie!”) to clothes (“I don’t know how he does it, but M’Baku’s clothes are _ so _ comfortable!”) and everything in between. By the time they actually reach the market, Clint’s got a few stalls in his mind that he wants to check out. Luckily, he remembered to jam some money into his pocket before he left this morning.

The first stall they stop at is run by a massive man named Thor. “Lightning sister!” He booms upon seeing Darcy. She squeals in happiness as he scoops her into a hug, swinging her around. 

“Thor, this is Clint,” Darcy says once Thor puts her down. “He’s new in town. We’re just wandering the market for a bit.”

“Well met, Clint!” Thor says jovially, shaking his hand. “I hope you have enjoyed our town so far!”

“It’s been great,” Clint says truthfully. 

“Yes, yes, we all love this town,” Darcy butts in jokingly. “Whatcha got for us today, big guy?”

Thor gestures at his table, nearly overflowing with honey and beeswax and various other bee-type products. “The bees were mightily generous this past harvest.” As he speaks, describing the many products on the table, a bee flies out of his beard, in a few lazy circles, then back into his beard. Clint looks at Darcy, eyes wide, but she doesn’t react, so neither does he. 

“I don’t know how you do it,” Darcy cries. She’s nibbling on a small piece of bread slathered in honey with a disgruntled look on her face. “Seriously, this is the best honey ever! How? Tell me your secrets!”

Thor laughs, the sound ringing over the crowd. “I am simply polite when I make the request, dear Darcy. Good manners go a long way.” Clint ends up buying a small amount of honey from Thor, and Darcy’s still grumbling as they walk away.

“He’s a bloody bee whisperer,” she grumps. “I just know it. Damn Jane for locking that down!”

“Who’s Jane?” Clint asks, curious. His eyes dart from stall to stall as they walk, slowly making their way through the crowd. 

“My best friend and Thor’s wife,” Darcy explains. “She called dibs.”

“Poor you,” Clint teases. Something flashes in the corner of his eye and he looks away from Darcy to find a stall covered in jewelry and trinkets. 

“Poor me, indeed,” Darcy says as he tugs her over. “Hi, Wanda!”

“Darcy,” the woman at the stall greets. “Who’s your friend?”

“I’m Clint,” he says, shaking her hand. “Hey, do you think you have a leather cord laying around somewhere?” He tugs the one around his neck into the light. “This one’s starting to fray and I don’t want it to break.”

Wanda eyes him thoughtfully. “I’m sure I can find something suitable.”

“Oh, what’s that?” Darcy asks, peering at the ring.

“My mom’s wedding ring,” Clint says, rubbing his thumb over it. “It’s all I have left of her.”

“Oh Clint, I’m sorry,” Darcy says, her face falling.

“It’s fine, Darce,” he says, “Was a long time ago.”

“This should work,” Wanda says, reappearing with a new cord. Clint thanks her, pays her, and spends the next minute or so moving the ring to the new cord and putting it around his neck. Once he’s done that, Darcy drags him to a few more stalls and then they start heading back towards the main square.

“Man, I’m _ starved_!” Darcy groans. “All that walking really did a number on me.”

“I could eat,” Clint agrees. He snags a picnic table while Darcy grabs them some food, setting the stuff they - mostly Darcy - bought to the side. He’s been waiting a few minutes for Darcy to come back when Steve and Bucky drop into the seats on the other side of the picnic table.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bucky says, grinning at him. “Enjoying yourself so far?”

“Yeah, I am,” Clint says. “It’s been a good day.”

“It’s about to get even better,” Steve says. “Wrestling competitions start soon.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Subtle, punk.”

Clint laughs. “Oh? You gonna show off how strong you are for me, babe?” He leers at Steve playfully.

“I see how it is!” Darcy appears out of nowhere, a playful pout on her face as she puts Clint’s food onto the table. “Dropping me as soon as these two hunks of beef come along, Clint?”

He takes Darcy’s hand and looks up at her seriously. “I will always cherish our time together, darlin’, but the time has come for me to let you go.” He lifts her hand and kisses her knuckles softly. 

“Damn, Clint!” Darcy says, eyes wide when he looks up. “Who knew you had game?”

“We did,” Bucky says smugly. 

Darcy rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, rub it in that you got to him first. You three have fun, I’m going to go find Jane.” She bounces away, disappearing into the crowd. 

Clint tugs his food into the centre of the table and looks up at the two men on the other side of the table. “Wanna share?” They nod and between the three of them, they manage to polish off the frankly massive pile of fries on the plate rather quickly. Once they’re done, they get up and start to walk over to where the wrestling matches will be held, poking fun at each other as they do. 

Steve kisses both of them before rushing off, and Clint looks at Bucky for an explanation. “I’m not fighting,” Bucky shrugs as they look for a seat. “We thought I’d stay with you and we could watch Steve fight together.”

“Sounds good to me,” Clint says. His hand bumps against Bucky’s gently, and shyly, Clint intertwines their fingers, relaxing slightly when Bucky sends him a cheerful grin. They chat idly for the next few minutes, holding hands all the while as they wait for Steve’s fight to start.

Suddenly, the lights dim and a spotlight shines directly onto someone standing in the center of the ring. “Welcome, one and all, to the annual RedStar festival!” He shouts into a microphone, grinning.

“That’s Tony Stark,” Bucky murmurs. “He’s got a big mouth, so he’s perfect for this job.” Clint snorts.

“We’ve got a special treat for you today, folks,” Tony grins. “Our very own alpha, Steve Rogers, has decided to fight in this year’s match! He will be facing the one and only Thor Odinson!”

“He’s fighting _ Thor_?” Clint sucks in a breath, his heart racing even as Tony continues speaking in the background.

“Steve’ll be fine, sweetheart,” Bucky assures him. “He and Thor are friends, they won’t let each other get hurt.”

“Why’s Thor even fighting?” Clint asks. “I thought he was married.”

“He is,” Bucky nods. “Steve’s really the only one who can match him in a fight, and Thor enjoys the challenge.” He squeezes Clint’s hand firmly. “He’ll be fine.”

“And without further ado,” Tony says cheerfully, “I present to you... Steve Rogers vs. Thor Odinson!” The crowd cheers loudly as Steve and Thor walk into the ring, waving. Clint blushes as Steve looks towards him and Bucky and blows them a kiss.

“He’s such a sap,” Bucky says fondly.

“I kinda like it,” Clint admits. “It’s sweet.” Before he can say anything else, the bell rings and the fight begins. Steve and Thor dance around each other at first, throwing light punches to test each other’s boundaries. One of Thor’s comes close, just missing Steve’s jaw, and Clint finds himself holding his breath.

Bucky huffs a laugh next to him, tugging him closer. “You’re adorable,” he murmurs. Clint doesn’t respond, too consumed by the fight. He’s not gonna lie - he’s a little uncomfortable with the thought of physical violence just for the sake of it, but knowing that Steve won’t really be hurt helps. Not much, but it does help. 

Despite being glued to the fight, it passes in a flash and - once it’s over - Clint couldn’t tell you what happened. He knows Steve won. He knows that neither him nor Thor was hurt too badly, but he knows that he’s not going to be able to relax until he sees Steve’s face, unharmed, with his own two eyes.

“Steve!” he shouts, darting across the floor until he reaches Steve’s side. 

“There you are!” Steve says. He smiles, but something about it seems forced. “Did you enjoy the fight?”

Clint searches Steve’s face. “Honestly?” He says hesitantly. “No. I didn’t like seeing you in a position where you could get hurt.”

Steve slumps in relief. “Oh, thank fuck,” he says. “I don’t like fighting.”

Coming up behind Clint, Bucky snorts. “That’s a lie. I was pulling you out of fights before you became this hunk of beef, punk.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Fine,” he grumbles. “I hate fighting for the sake of fighting.” Now that he’s seen Steve is okay, Clint lets his eyes roam, taking in Steve’s shirtless, sweaty form. 

“There is one thing to be said for fighting, though,” Clint says softly, immediately drawing Bucky and Steve’s eyes to him. 

“Oh?” Bucky says, raising an eyebrow. “What’s that, sweetheart?”

“Steve looks like this afterwards,” Clint purrs. “Practically good enough to eat.”

“You think so, sugar?” Steve growls, the sound of his voice sending a bolt of arousal through Clint’s body.

“I do,” Clint breathes, swaying closer. “Too bad you guys want to take this slow, right?” With that said, he turns on his heel abruptly and walks away, snickering to himself. He does love to tease them.

* * *

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment in his day when it went sour. Really, it was a bunch of little things that piled on top of each other, all collectively making his day just that much worse. By the time he locked up the animal shelter for the night and started walking over to the sports centre, he was sore all over, his head was throbbing, and he really just wanted to go home and nap. 

But he had promised to meet Steve and Bucky at the sports centre once he was done at the shelter, and no matter how tired he was or how crap his day had been, he was never going to pass up a chance to see his boys. So when he rounds the corner to see them waiting for him with smiles on their faces, something just cracks in him. 

It must show on his face, because Steve and Bucky lose their smiles immediately and rush over to him, stopping before they reach him. “What can we do?” Bucky asks, concerned.

Clint opens his mouth... and nothing comes out. He closes it and shakes his head, frustrated. Taking two steps forward, he plants his face in Steve’s chest, reaching out with his right hand until he finds Bucky and pulls him close. “We’re here,” Steve murmurs, holding him close. “We got you.”

It’s nearly five minutes before Clint manages to get himself together, and he pulls away from them, grimacing. “Sorry about that,” he mutters.

“Hey, no need to apologize,” Steve says gently. “You never have to apologize for needing us.”

“I just...” Clint sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Everything that could go wrong went wrong today, and it all piled up and I really just want to go home and take a nap but I also want to spend time with you guys because you relax me and I enjoy it but I’m _ so _ tired.”

“We can take you home if you’d like,” Bucky says, exchanging a glance with Steve, “But if you want, we have something for you. It’ll make your day better for sure.”

“Presents?” Clint perks up. His eyes widen as Steve pulls a bow from a bag Clint hadn’t noticed before now and hands it to him. “God, she’s gorgeous,” he breathes reverently, greedily taking in the sight.

“We had to make some guesses about style and a few other things,” Bucky says as Clint runs his fingers over the curves. “But I think we did okay. It’s supposed to be a really good bow."

“You did better than okay,” Clint murmurs, struggling between the desire to kiss the life out of the two of them or shoot his brand new bow. “I love her. _ Thank _ you, seriously. You have no idea what this means to me.”

“I can tell you’re dying to shoot something,” Steve smirks. “Here. We got you good arrows, too.” He hands Clint a bundle of arrows, all perfectly straight and all perfectly weighted. 

Clint takes the arrows, gently sets his brand new (purple!!) bow and arrows on top of his bag, then throws himself at Steve. He kisses him until they’re both breathless, then repeats himself with Bucky. When he finally backs away and picks up his bow (they got him a bow!!!) all three of them are flushed and panting. He shoots a wink at his boys, then gets into position a fair distance back from the target. 

The second he nocks an arrow and draws the string back, he can feel it in his gut that this bow is a work of art. He releases and the arrow flies silently through the air, thunking directly where he aimed it. He nocks another arrow and draws again, letting it fly with a hum of pleasure. By the time he finishes, his shoulders are straining from the new draw weight and his chest is heaving from the effort.

“Holy shit,” he hears from behind him. He turns to see Bucky and Steve staring at him, eyes black and jaws wide. “We saw you shoot before, but...”

“A good bow makes all the difference,” Clint shrugs, wary of the way they’re looking at him. 

Suddenly, Bucky takes two steps forward, grabs Clint, and yanks him into a bruising kiss. He swallows Clint’s grunt of surprise, licking his way into Clint’s mouth. “You look really fucking hot when you’re concentrating that hard,” Bucky growls, pulling away for a split second before attacking his neck.

“Fuck,” Clint groans, clutching at Bucky’s hair with his free hand, and trying desperately to remember how to speak, “If this is what it gets me every time, I’ll shoot for you every day.”

“Can you do it naked?” Steve asks, crowding up against Clint’s back. The sudden heat of him added to Bucky’s heat along his front has Clint reeling, and all he can do is hold on tight as the two of them do their best to take him apart. The noises coming out of his mouth would be embarrassing - if he cared, which he doesn’t.

“Hey,” he tries, the word coming out a half-moan as Steve bites down on a particularly sensitive spot. He clears his throat and tries again. “Hey!”

Immediately, the two of them pull away. Clint can’t help the whine that bubbles up out of his throat. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Bucky says, worry shining through the lust haze in his eyes.

“Nothing,” Clint shakes his head. “Really. Everything’s good. Great, even. I just don’t want our first time to be behind the sports centre. Not that I’m opposed to rolling in the hay the old-fashioned way, but...” He shrugs. “I’d rather not get grass stains on these pants.”

“Why would you get-” Steve chokes on his tongue halfway through his sentence, making Clint laugh. Bucky snorts as well, and the two of them laugh at Steve while he recovers.

“That’s right, Stevie,” Clint says, winking. “I can’t _ wait _ to get my mouth on the two of you.” 

* * *

After that day behind the sports centre, Clint can’t seem to keep his hands off of the two alphas. Not that they seem to mind, considering they’re the same way. Nothing ever goes further than some heavy petting (no matter how hard Clint tries) - apparently, Steve and Bucky really are old fashioned. 

Clint gets into the habit of shooting with the bow they got him every day, rain or shine. The only day he doesn’t manage it is one day Dr. Banner keeps him late at the shelter, saying that the dogs need to be played with as a group. Clint spends an extra three hours basically in a dogpile, and by the time he locks up and leaves, it’s too dark for him to shoot.

When he gets to the range the next day, he finds that the whole thing has been remodelled. It’s got a retractable roof, real actual targets, and best of all, Steve and Bucky are waiting for him. “Is this why Dr. Banner kept me late yesterday?” Clint asks as he approaches.

They nod sheepishly. “We figured it was about time you got a real range,” Bucky explains. 

“You’re not mad you couldn’t shoot yesterday?” Steve asks.

“Mad?” Clint asks incredulously. “Steve, I got to play with all the dogs. For three whole _ hours _.” 

Bucky laughs, nudging Steve’s shoulder. “Told you he’d be fine.”

“Fine? I’m better than fine,” Clint says. “That may have been the best day of my _ life _.”

“Better than the day you met us?” Steve asks, pouting. 

“Oh, absolutely,” Clint nods, hiding his grin at Bucky’s outraged squawk. “Without a doubt, beats you guys out for first place.”

“You hear that, Buck?” Steve says, grinning. “We were in first place.” Clint blushes.

“Yeah, Stevie,” Bucky grumbles. “_Were_. As in, aren’t anymore.”

“Although,” Clint says brightly, “The dogs aren’t nearly as good at kissing as you two are.”

* * *

Their next two gifts are a painting of the forest (Steve) and a bright purple coffee mug (Bucky). Clint shows his appreciation by walking through his apartment, fresh out of the shower and naked as the day he was born, and doing naked yoga in the living room. 

He almost manages to get them to change their minds about the whole sex thing, but unfortunately they have unbreakable self-control. Bastards.

* * *

“You guys are kind of worrying me here,” Clint says nervously, eyes darting between Steve and Bucky. They’re sitting across from him at their kitchen table, having sat him down with serious expressions on their faces. 

“Clint, we-”

“Is this a break-up talk?” Clint blurts, heart dropping. He should’ve known this was too good to be true, he should’ve known that someone like him - carny, circus brat, _ useless _ \- couldn’t keep someone like them. Either of them. Should’ve fucking-

“Clint, sweetheart, no!” Bucky says, horrified. He is at Clint’s side in a flash, rubbing a hand up and down Clint’s back.

“We would never!” Steve says, eyes wide. He reaches across the table and grabs Clint’s hand, squeezing tightly.

Clint slumps back into the chair, heart racing. “Then what’s with all the crypticness?”

“We wouldn’t do that to you,” Bucky says vehemently.

“Not ever,” Steve agrees. “We wanted to give you something.”

“Fuck,” Clint mutters, letting out a breath. He’s a bit embarrassed at himself now that the immediate panic has passed, and he grimaces sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Bucky says. “We should have communicated better. We just wanted you to know exactly what you mean to us.”

Clint blinks, coming to a realization. “This is the last gift, isn’t it?” He asks slowly. Bucky and Steve exchange a look, then nod. “Okay,” Clint breathes. 

Steve slides a rectangular brown box across the table gently. “It’s not a ring,” he says, amused at Clint’s look of terror. 

“Not yet, anyway,” Bucky mutters.

Clint opens the box, heart in his throat, and finds a beautiful leather bracelet with fletching stamped along the edges and a small star within concentric circles pressed into it. He stares at it, trying to find the words to express what he thinks past the lump in his throat. “We wanted to get you something that represented us,” Steve explains. “The fletching is for you, obviously, and the star in the circles is supposed to represent a shield.”

“Because we want to protect you, sweetheart,” Bucky says gently. “Forever, if you’ll let us.”

“I -” Clint doesn’t know what to say. The silence builds for what seems like hours, and eventually Clint finds the strength to speak. “Okay,” he says, too quietly. Clearing his throat, he tries again. “Okay,” he says, this time more firmly.

“Yeah?” Steve breathes, lighting up.

“Please,” Clint chokes out. Bucky lets out a whoop and fastens the bracelet around his wrist, the feel of the leather snug against his skin settling something in Clint. Steve rounds the table and kisses him, then Bucky, all of them laughing into the kisses. “Wait, wait, wait,” Clint says breathlessly, pulling away. “Does this mean I’m finally gonna be able to get my mouth on you two?”

Immediately, the mood switches from playful to heated and Bucky growls, “If that’s what you want, sweetheart.”

Clint grins. “I’ve wanted it for weeks now, Bucky, you and Steve here are the ones who wanted to ‘wait’ and ‘do it right’.”

“We wanted to treat you properly because you deserve it, sugar,” Steve says softly. 

“Yep, you’re great, I’m great, we’re all great, can we move this to the bedroom?” Bucky says impatiently. “I’ve got plans.”

The growl in his voice makes Clint shiver, and he wants nothing more than to agree and go upstairs to let the two of them have their wicked way with him, but - “I have to go get the charger for my hearing aids,” he says apologetically. “I wasn’t planning on staying the night, so I didn’t bring it with me. You two stay here and I’ll go and grab it, it’ll just be a couple minutes.”

“Don’t take too long,” Steve growls, yanking him into a filthy kiss. “Bucky’s not the only one with plans.”

“Hng,” Clint says, dazed. He shakes his head to clear it, kisses Bucky goodbye - which takes up another ten minutes - and heads out the door, breaking into a run nearly immediately. He makes it to his apartment in record time, slamming through the door and stumbling into his bedroom, frantically searching for his charger. He tosses some clean underwear and a few other things into the bag he normally uses for archery, not even bothering to take out his bow and arrows, throws it over his shoulder and rushes out the door, barely remembering to lock the door behind him. 

He practically burns holes in his shoes getting back to Steve and Bucky’s place, completely consumed with the thought of their hands and mouths and _ other _ parts, all wrapped up in his hands and mouth and, well... His brain is completely occupied by those thoughts, so when he reaches their house and the door opens for him easily, he doesn’t think anything of it. “Steve?” He calls, shutting the door behind him. “Bucky? C’mon, stop teasing!” 

He drops his bag by the door and takes a few steps forward, freezing when the _ crunch _ of broken glass sounds from under his foot. Lifting his foot, he crouches down and picks up the frame that he stepped on. His heart stops when he sees Sarah Rogers’ face smiling up at him. Steve loves this picture, he’d never let it break.

“Steve! Bucky!” His cries are more frantic now, broken glass cutting into his palm as he moves forward. When he reaches the kitchen, he stops dead. It’s a disaster. There’s claw marks along the table, spilled tea cooling on the table, and - Clint has to swallow a whimper when he sees blood splatter, stark against the white of the fridge. Something flutters in the corner of his eye, drawing his attention to a piece of paper pinned to the table with a knife.

He walks forward slowly, dread filling his gut, and picks up the piece of paper. When he reads what’s on it, all the blood drains from his face. He drops the paper and stumbles back, terror filling every inch of his being. Slamming his shoulder against the doorframe, he whips around and down the hallway, stopping to grab his bow, arrows, and the flashdrive from his bag, then he disappears out the door. He races towards the forest, heart pounding, the words from the note flashing in his mind’s view.

**You for them. Come alone. Bring what you took. **

It’s in Barney’s handwriting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm... _not_ sorry?


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we arrive. I had a ton of fun writing this, and I hope y'all have had a ton of fun reading it! Without further ado, I present... the final chapter!

They can’t be gone. Clint races through the forest, narrowly dodging tree branches as he pushes his human form to its limits. They can’t be gone, he thinks, because he hasn’t even told them how he feels about them. He hasn’t told them he loves them.

A noise ahead of him grabs his attention and he skids to a stop, nearly running directly into a tree. “I don’t even know why Barney has us waiting out here,” a voice complains. “No way itty bitty Barton’s gonna show up.” Clint pokes his head around the tree cautiously and sees Jesse and Ray, two of the tightrope walkers from the circus. 

“Just shut up and keep an eye out,” Jesse grumbles, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Barney knows his brother best.”

“Still, I’d much rather be back at the camp,” Ray continues arguing. “Bet those two alpha types are a helluva fight to watch. Bloody.” Cold, silent rage fills Clint’s body, and in a split second he’s got two arrows nocked and aimed at Jesse and Ray. 

“Yeah, they were already beat to shit when -” Jesse’s cut off by Ray’s strangled scream as an arrow sprouts through his shoulder, the second one slamming into Jesse a moment later. 

Ignoring their cursing, Clint stalks forward with a deadly glare on his face. “You’re going to tell me where they are,” he says, voice quiet.

“Clint?” Jesse says incredulously, gritting his teeth against the pain. “What the fuck, man-”

“Shut up.” Clint nocks another arrow, keeping it aimed at the ground. For now. “Don’t make me ask twice.” Jesse snarls and spits at him, but Clint ignores him. 

“They’re about a five minute walk that way,” Ray says, jerking his head to indicate which direction he means. “Once you get to the tree split by lightning, you’re almost there.”

“Traitor!” Jesse hisses. Clint tears a strip off his shirt and shoves it in his mouth to keep him silent, cutting off the angry words he’s hissing at Ray.

“How many?” Clint keeps his eyes trained on Ray.

“Fifteen? Twenty, maybe?” Ray bites out, face white.   
  
“And the alphas?” Clint asks. “Where are they?”

“Middle of the camp in a cage,” Ray mutters. “Are you gonna help me out here, man?” He tilts his head towards his shoulder.

“Sure.” Before Ray can react, Clint brings up his bow and cracks him over the head with it, knocking him out. He does the same to Jesse before tearing another strip off his shirt and jamming it into Ray’s mouth, to keep him quiet when he wakes up. He doesn’t bother tying them up, knowing they’d just escape - getting out of restraints was one of the first things the circus taught Clint.

He leaves the two men behind, unconscious on the ground, and keeps moving forward. He hears the laughter and other noises before he even sees the tree that Ray mentioned, and the glow of firelight flickers through the trees. The familiar sounds of music and laughter get louder the closer he gets to the camp, and he stops once he’s just a few trees away from a large clearing the circus has claimed. He climbs up a tree to get a better vantage point, scanning the site once he’s up there to try and find Steve and Bucky.

After a minute or so of searching, his eyes find a large cage in the center of the clearing, and he can _ just _ make out two figures chained to opposite sides inside. A fresh wave of rage washes over him, and his fingers tighten on his bow. He desperately wants to drop out of this tree right now and get them out of here, everything else be damned, but he knows that’s suicide. He needs to think.

“I’m not so sure my little brother’s coming,” a familiar voice drawls. Clint goes rigid as someone walks up to the cage and leans against it. “Not that I’m all that surprised. He’s always been a coward, see.” Barney grins, teeth gleaming as the firelight bounces off them. “Ever since we were kids.”

“You’re the coward,” Bucky growls from inside the cage, fury suffusing his voice. Clint sags minutely. _ Bucky’s alive_. “Clint’s a better man than you could ever hope to be.”

Barney scoffs. “You’re an idiot if you think you know him better than me. Which one of us has known him longer, hmm? Which one of us practically raised him? Which one of us is his _ family_?”

“Blood does not make family,” Steve snarls. Clint breathes a sigh of relief at the sound of his voice.

Barney waves his hand dismissively. “Whatever. Point is, I know Clint. He’s probably long gone by now, along with whatever valuables he could fit into his pockets. He’s not coming for you, boys.”

“You’re wrong,” Bucky says simply. “He will.” 

Clint’s heart clenches painfully as he sees how much faith they have in them, and he resolves that the first thing he says to them when he gets them out of here will be to tell them how he feels. Taking a deep breath, he nocks an arrow and draws it back, then fires. It flies through the air near soundlessly and slams into the soft dirt right between Barney’s feet. 

The clearing is silent for a brief moment, everyone frozen in shock, and then Clint bursts into action. He fires arrow after arrow, barely stopping to breathe between shots, each arrow finding its mark in the bodies of the people who took his mates from him. He doesn’t realize that the growling he’s hearing is him until he reaches back for an arrow and finds his quiver empty. 

The clearing is full of bodies - some alive and groaning, some not - and Clint drops from the tree and makes his way to the cage where Steve and Bucky are being held. “You little asshole,” Barney swears viciously from the ground. “I’m going to kill you, Clint, you hear me?” He’s clutching at the arrow in his shoulder, knuckles white from the pain.

“_No one_,” Clint snarls into Barney’s face, “touches what’s mine.” He jams the arrow he snagged from a body into Barney’s other shoulder viciously, making him pass out from the pain. 

“You came for us,” Steve says, shocked. Clint kneels down and starts searching Barney’s body for the keys. “And you beat them. By yourself.”

“You doubted me?” Clint asks, pulling the keys out of Barney’s front pocket. 

“Not for a moment,” Bucky says as Clint stands and unlocks the door. “Hi, sweetheart.” Clint unlocks his cuffs first, taking a moment to breathe in his scent before going over to Steve and doing the same thing. He and Bucky help Steve walk out of the cage when Clint sees him grimace and clutch his ribs. 

“You guys are okay?” Clint asks shakily. “They didn’t hurt you too bad?” 

“We’ve had worse,” Steve assures him. “C’mere, sugar, let us hold you.” The three of them wrap their arms around each other, and for the first time since they were taken, Clint can breathe. 

“I was so scared,” he chokes out, fists tightening on their backs. “He could’ve killed you.”

“But he didn’t,” Bucky soothes. “We’re alright, you saved us.” They stand there for a moment longer, breathing deeply, until Clint steps back and shakes his head to clear it. “Are you alright, sweetheart?” Bucky asks.

“I love you,” Clint blurts. “Both of you.” They stare at him. “I was so worried when I got back to your house and you weren’t there but there was a note and I just couldn’t stop thinking that he was going to kill you and-”

“Clint, breathe,” Steve says firmly. Clint sucks in a breath and finds that he’s crying. “We love you too.”

“You do?” Clint sniffles.

“With everything we have,” Bucky says, pulling Clint into another hug. “Have for a while now.”

“Oh,” Clint says, wiping his face. “Good.”

* * *

“No running in the halls!” Clint whips past the nurse’s station, an apology flying off his lips and skids through the door into Bucky and Steve’s hospital room. 

“Sweetheart, what’s going on?” Bucky says, sitting up.

Clint holds up a finger, gasping for breath. It takes him a few minutes, but eventually he manages to gasp out, “Natasha!” Just as he says it, the woman herself sweeps in through the open door behind him.

“Hi, Nat,” Steve says sheepishly. Bucky waves.

She ignores them and glares at Clint. “Don’t run away from me,” she says flatly. “I still need to talk to you about running off to rescue these two idiots without any backup.”

“I wasn’t thinking?” Clint tries. 

“Clearly not,” Natasha snaps. “You are _ pack_, Clint, and that means that you are not alone, understand? We are your family now, and that means that you can count on us. That means you certainly do _ not _ run off into the woods in the middle of the night to take on your old pack by yourself, that means you _ call _ us.”

Clint blinks. “Next time I go running off into the woods in the middle of the night to rescue these two, I’ll call you. Promise.” He gives her a sheepish grin, rubbing at the back of his neck.

The corner of her mouth ticks up. “Don’t be a smartass,” she replies, ruffling his hair before turning on Steve and Bucky. “And you two!” Steve and Bucky wilt under her glare for a few moments before she stops and smiles at them. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Love you too, Nat!” Bucky calls after her as she leaves. When it’s just the three of them again, he looks over at Steve and Clint. “She’s terrifying,” he says, shuddering theatrically.

“Yeah, but we’d be lost without her,” Steve agrees. “How did she even know we were here?”

Clint winces, drawing their attention to him. “I... may have told Nat what happened, and Darcy _ may _ have overheard?” 

“Oh boy,” Bucky says, settling into his bed. “Guess that means the whole town knows.”

“Sorry?” Clint tries. Steve shakes his head and reaches out, gesturing for Clint to come closer. Clint climbs into bed next to him, snuggling in gingerly.

“Nothing to apologize for, sugar,” Steve says, planting a kiss on Clint’s head. “Guess we should get ready for-”

“I come bearing gifts!” Darcy cries as she bursts through the door. Clint snickers and settles in further, watching as the stream of well-wishers starts.

* * *

Clint exhales, letting the arrow fly. The corner of his mouth ticks up as it lands right where he aimed it, and he nocks another, losing himself in the repetitive _ thunk thunk thunk _ of the arrows hitting the target. 

“That never gets old,” Bucky remarks from behind him where he and Steve are sprawled about on top of a blanket.

“I could watch him do that all day,” Steve agrees, tossing a grape into the air and catching it with his mouth.

“Glad I can entertain you,” Clint snorts. He goes and collects his arrows and when he’s back in front of Steve and Bucky, he notices them exchanging looks. “Spit it out,” he says.

“What do you mean?” Steve asks, eyes wide.

Clint sighs. “Whatever it is that you’ve been wanting to say to me all day,” he says, plopping down next to them. “Spit it out. You’re not exactly subtle.” They exchange another look and Clint ruthlessly shoves down the feeling that’s telling him they’re going to kick him out of RedStar.

“Well,” Bucky starts, taking Clint’s hand. “You’ve been staying in RedStar for a while now, and it doesn’t look like you’re going anywhere-”

“We hope you’re not going anywhere,” Steve interrupts. “Because we’d like you to stay. With us.”

“Permanently,” Bucky finishes. “Consider this our offer to make you an official member of RedStar.”

Clint’s brain screeches to a stop. It’s not like he hadn’t known that Steve and Bucky were it for him, but some little part of his brain couldn’t stop thinking that he was just a passing interest for them, something they’d discard once they were done. He’d planned to enjoy it while it lasted and didn’t think about the inevitable heartbreak that was headed his way once they’d had their fun. 

“Sweetheart?” Bucky says hesitantly. 

“Stop that,” Steve says firmly, squeezing Clint’s other hand.

“Stop what?” Clint asks.

“Stop thinking bad things,” Steve answers. “We want you here, with us, for the rest of our lives. It’s not a temporary thing - _ you’re _ not a temporary thing. We love you, Clint Barton.”

“Okay,” Clint says, stunned. “I accept.”

A smile spreads across Steve’s face, twin to the one on Bucky’s face. “Yeah?” Bucky breathes. Clint nods, his own cheeks hurting from the force of his grin, then lets out an ‘oof’ as both men tackle him. He can’t stop the laughter that bubbles up, sheer joy practically emanating from his body.

The murmured declarations of love and frantic kisses pressed to his face only solidify that Bucky and Steve want him, and Clint is suddenly filled with something that he hasn’t had in a very long time - hope. 

Hope for his future, hope for Steve and Bucky, just... hope. He’s home.


End file.
